Tails
by NotebookPaper
Summary: Kirara was a creature of sensual habit, and whoever this person was, they were perfect for her.


Title: Tails

Author: NotebookPaper

Rating: K

Pairing: Hinted SangoxMiroku KagomexInuyasha?

Notes: So, I've had this finished for a while. It was a Christmas present for my friend and co-worker Heather, who loves Kirara. I was actually most excited to write this one of all the fanfic gifts I did for my friends, and I truly think this one turned out the best. That could be due to the fact that despite my slight aversion to Inuyasha now, I've probably ingested more for the series than any other one combined.

In all my two other gift pieces I had to write a small note along the lines of, "I wrote this for someone else, so it might not appeal to everyone," but in this case I really hope everyone enjoys it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kirara or Inuyasha in general. If I did, it would be called "Sango and Miroku". …It has been such a long time since I said anything like that.

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Kirara was a creature of sensual habit.

She liked having her fur stroked, and long naps in the sun. She secretly basked the way people cooed and "aww"ed when she mewled. She knew when she was small that she was just that damned cute. She couldn't have lived for hundreds of years without realizing it.

Kirara had possessed many "masters" in her long years of life, but mostly stayed with them for the comforts they could provide her, but she was not a creature to be misunderstood as horribly selfish, though. Any kindness she received she gladly returned.

The only being she ever considered an actual master had been the Priestess Midoriko, and whether the woman knew it or not she never could tell. The only ones she had ever seen as friends were the Demonslayers Sango and Kohaku, for whom she harbored a deep affection. Other than them she had traveled alongside many others. Before the Demonslayers, whom she stayed with long before Sango and Kohaku's birth, and even before Midoriko, she first decided to employ herself alongside an honorable Warlord.

The man had been awkward in all fashions aside from the sword and leading men. He had a wife and a few children who came to love him despite his awkward handling, though one son with an Oedipus Complex of the highest degree had been long in admitting any sort of affection for his father after he learned to walk (He did eventually with a little pushing on Kirara's part.). Kirara had taken a liking to him because his awkwardness did not translate to those he fought alongside. The heavy pats to her head, or strokes to her back were like heaven when she was large and saber-toothed. He didn't restrain his strength with her, and Kirara, inexorably feminine even when roaring, loved it. The first time the man had kissed the diamond on her forehead, the only place he would, Kirara might have been smitten, but she was far too regal for that.

The man's sense of justice had been his undoing. So honorable was he for the coming rough times that he lost control of his own men to another more wealthy and corrupt warlord. Being a man of the sword, he had been out of sorts for many days, but eventually eked out an honest living until he was championed by the Foreman of the village he'd taken residence in. The Foreman recognized his skill, as well as his daughter's interest in the man's son. The Warlord became an icon for the village. Though the village itself had long been protected at the back by a large mountain, the wars were taking a toll on the people. None of the inhabitants of the town wanted to become the ravages of demons, and thus rallied behind the Foreman and the Warlord who showed great promise in keeping them happy and safe. Kirara helped protect the village and remained familiar to the Warlord for many years, then when his son became Foreman and Warlord she decided the family was well off enough and left them.

For many years and through many "masters" who fell in war, Kirara realized there were more and more orphans due to the feudal times that had fallen on the large island she inhabited. It was impossible to care for all of them, but she often lent her inherent warmth to many sleeping children for their loving touch in return. It was an oddly pleasant practice to partake of when she found she was tired of war. No doubt, it led her to where she was today.

One summer, when her warmth was far from needed, she was bringing fish to a dying boy when she found a woman carrying him to the outskirts of the village. They came to a most curious building. Inside were many children of both demonic and human descent, the woman herself supposedly human. In the years to come, Kirara found that the woman would have made a glorious priestess if she had decided to employ herself as such, but it turned out she was only very much favored by a higher power that blessed her with bountiful harvests all year round. Kirara fended off many threats to the house, threats attracted by the budding demonic power and the woman herself, but such a paradise could not last long.

Kirara was gathering some fish to give to the household before the onset of the first frost of the year when her nose picked up the scent of a threat. Some underground thugs whose boss was interested in the power of the woman burned down the home before Kirara could even fly back. As the woman had gotten older, an odd longevity still keeping her surprisingly young looking, she had come to rely on the protection her demon benefactor offered quite often and was ill prepared to protect herself let alone her charges. Kirara became determined never to let anyone do that again.

A few of the demon children had matured and escaped with their friends, but the woman was taken. Kirara fought for her, but to no avail before the night of the attack was finished. She became a comfort to the children until they were ready to try and fend for themselves. Kirara never found a paddy that prospered as well as the one the woman had offered and took heart; the woman had either ended her own suffering or escaped, neither being an easy feat when captive to evil men.

Kirara returned to the sight of this first failure one day on pure whim and met Midoriko amongst the long unused rice paddies. The Priestess professed to know the woman who had once lived here, distraught, but hiding it well, at the lack of her presence. Both Kirara and Midoriko blamed themselves for the incident, though Kirara felt more responsible, and joined in the Priestess' quest to find out what happened.

Midoriko had been beautiful and affectionate in her own way. They got along well.

They found that one of the thugs had actually fallen for the woman who had owned the orphanage. They had fled perhaps a month after she was taken prisoner and resumed the same work she partook in beforehand, though to a lesser extent so as not to attract the attention she had before. The woman was guarded passionately by the once-thug for the rest of their lives. Midoriko imparted to Kirara that the man felt the woman was his redemption. He died fighting for her three years after they started their new lives.

Kirara found later that Midoriko had been seeking her friend to find closure from her human companions. Midoriko had been a pure woman in life, but no less human when it came to attachments. After finding her closure it became her will to fight where others could not. Kirara followed her faithfully for as long as she could, but Midoriko left her and the rest of the animated world some years later to fight demons on a plane Kirara could not hope to enter. Kirara had never been stroked the same way after they parted company.

Many years later Kirara returned to her first home to see the descendents of her first Warlord. The village that had once lain at the bottom of a mountain had moved up and become a barricaded safe-haven. A safe-haven that housed many well trained slayers of demons; it was a village of Demonslayers.

There had been a few brushes with being slain herself before the current foreman recognized her from an obscure portrait in the family archives. Kirara didn't know much about the human practices, so perhaps it is best to impart that the Demonslayers did not keep many records. What was kept was scant, but considered precious. The two-tailed demon cat was then recognized as a friend to the foreman of the village, a title by then synonymous with warlord for the people of the Demonslayer Village. In their possession was a jewel Kirara became particularly fond of. It didn't take long for her to realize why. Midoriko's very essence seemed a part of the thing.

Times became tougher for the Demonslayers, and they had to relinquish custody of the jewel to a Priestess. Kirara trusted the woman, though she was barely a rival to the Priestess she had once served. There was a reason Midoriko had sacrificed her attachments, but Kirara would be hard pressed to find anyone better than this priestess to guard the jewel. Thus, she stayed with the Demonslayers.

A couple foreman passed before the scent of her first Warlord's soul was glued to a female child. The Warlord from ages ago had been good to her, and Sango and her family were good to her as well. Sango had not inherited the same awkwardness as the first Warlord, but perhaps that was because the village to which she was born was suited to more gruff and passionate natures. Her brother Kohaku was different, but Kirara still cared for the boy deeply. It pained her to see what the two siblings went through, but she did all she could to help them achieve their ends. She would not fail any orphans again.

Their journey we know up to the end.

When Sango's odd companions came to that end, it was with mixed emotions that Kirara watched as the Shikon Jewel was taken out of existence. She briefly wondered at Midoriko, but realized the woman had decided the outcome herself, and Kirara was thankful for the time she had with such a soul. Her hands had been the loveliest.

For a brief while after, she stayed with Sango and the monk she took for a husband. That man had sweet hands, though Sango's were still preferable, and the Cat was happy. She stayed until they birthed a pair of squalling twins then left with Kohaku. She accompanied the sweet boy for as long as he wished to travel and train. Very little of great magnitude happened in their time together. The boy settled eventually, giving into his own nature and becoming the most doting husband and father Kirara had ever seen. At the onset of those years she settled in with Sango again, but she couldn't remain a house demon for long. Though she watched the village closely for a long time afterward, she did leave. The first night of her longest time away from the siblings since Sango's conception, she mewled her goodbye. A sleepy Sango kissed the diamond on Kirara's head, and stroked down her back for some minutes before they finally parted.

Sango's husband became the bearer of news for her. He traveled often, and Kirara was actually a little proud to admit that he did so as an honest husband. Never once did he smell like another woman.

Some might wonder why Kirara's Demonslayers – Her's because she decided she had a hand in their creation – did not create a new slayer village. Aside from the fact that it would take many generations to become what they once were, Kirara realized a few years after the disappearance of the jewel that the number of demons was decreasing. After a while it didn't settle well with her that she aided in their destruction, but after centuries guarding innocents from evil demons who far out-powered them she could hardly stop. Eventually there were so few demons that humans no longer needed her help purging them. Sadly, she realized with regret, even the kind demons who meant no harm were slain. Kirara would stand and try to defeat the humans through pure intimidation, but could not bring herself to kill them when they didn't back down, and fled.

It was during this time that Kirara might have considered becoming a house demon, but she had seen Sango's husband on his last excursion. The man had aged finely, but aged no less. He'd pet her with fingers harboring swollen joints. His hands were still steady, and felt as sweet as she remembered, but he professed that this was his last excursion and his wish for the demon to visit his home sometime in the next year. Kirara had also seen why the monk made his request.

After their parents were gone, Kirara knew the children born of the Demonslayers didn't need her protection. The adults in their lives had been sure of it, and the half demon Kirara had learned to rely on here and there assured her that the village harboring his children, grandchildren and his god children would be protected for many, many generations. That half demon's claws scratched very well, but these days his touch, though well meant, was devoid of the usual emotion Kirara was used to. There was no reason for her to stay.

It was thus that when her kind all but perished Kirara became a legend and then was all but forgotten.

The misunderstood Cat could not find a worthy "master" for many centuries, and soon found it within herself to leave her rapidly changing island, Japan as we know it today. She was finally feeling her age, and the journey was hard, but she made it. Where? She couldn't really tell, but she knew she would not be able to fly elsewhere. She was a rarer than rare oddity, she found with amusement, and could not fly forever. Soon, Kirara was no longer able to become large and saber-toothed. She doubted she'd have the energy in a few years, but there was no point. Lifetimes of life had taught her unfailing stealth.

But it was failing her.

It was by chance that when it finally did, her large orange eyes were staring into pools of instant love and understanding. To any other the eyes of this new person were hard, but Kirara knew them. To hurt her went against this person's honor. Relief coursed through her that day and Kirara fainted.

When she woke up she was lovingly pillowed on a warm lap. The hands that touched her were familiar, though the face she saw was not. The person that held her did not mind her two tails and stroked her fur with love Kirara had not felt for a long time. The person kissed the diamond on her head, and their hands were the loveliest she'd seen in a long, long time.

This person thought she was the cutest thing since kittens, and though the person had many things to attend to, as many seemed to in this time, they did not grudge her a luxurious stroke over her back nor long naps in the sun that warmed her thickening belly and shining fur.

Kirara was a creature of sensual habit, and whoever this person was, they were perfect for her.


End file.
